


October Writing Challenge 2020 [UNFINISHED/DISCONTINUED]

by theplanetmarz



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (i dont write rlly gory shit abt real ppl especially minors), (i use vomit/nausea to express lots of sadness and fear so uh yeah warning), (its vv mild but just thought i'd tag it anyways!!), (kinda? nothing boundary-crossing), (this makes it sound rlly graphic but its not rlly), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Emetophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Halloween, Halloween Challenge, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Magic, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Not Beta Read, Spooky, Transformation, Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:41:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 10,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26788405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theplanetmarz/pseuds/theplanetmarz
Summary: From fluff to angst to happiness and fear, I've decided to make myself a prompt list.Each day this October, to the best of my ability, I'll be writing a short one-shot story with the prompt list I've made.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Eret & Floris | Fundy, No shipping - Relationship, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, dont ship real ppl - Relationship
Comments: 38
Kudos: 259





	1. List & General Stuff

Hi :]

Welcome to my challenge thingy!! Sometimes my posts may be late because of lack of motivation or time constraints, but there will be 31 prompt writings posted, even if I do leak them over into November. I'll be dropping the first three or four all on one day an the rest individually. If you want to write something based off my list go right ahead!! Just please credit me! Okay let's go!

Here is the prompt list: 

  1. Pumpkin 
  2. Void
  3. Glow
  4. Nosebleed 
  5. Eyes
  6. Ink
  7. Flight
  8. Scream
  9. Wood
  10. Computer Virus 
  11. Phantasmagorical
  12. Space
  13. Transformation 
  14. Antlers/Horns
  15. Glitch
  16. Bitten 
  17. Haunted
  18. Crowned
  19. Hallucinate 
  20. Egotistical 
  21. Trapped
  22. Reality 
  23. Lake
  24. Corruption 
  25. Bugs 
  26. Secret 
  27. Nightmare
  28. Thorns
  29. Distortion 
  30. Party 
  31. Horror Movie 




	2. Day 1: Pumpkin

Day One: Pumpkin 

A gentle fog had settled over the meadow by night. 

Despite this causing a large hindrance in his vision, Tommy continued his trek across the still field. 

The grass was wet, glazed with dew, making his boots soak with each new step. 

The meadow was secluded, a simple checkpoint opening in the deep bowels of the forest, the only light was of Tommy’s lantern and the pale moon above, which occasionally hid beneath a blanket of clouds. 

Under his arm, Tommy carried his prize, his gift. 

The hidden pasture wasn’t entirely secret, Tubbo knew about it, in fact, the boy was the reason Tommy had ventured out tonight. Tubbo probably wouldn’t like to hear that, being a paranoid scaredy-cat when it came to the woodland after dark.

Against Wilbur’s numerous instructions to the two teens to never leave their houses at night, Tommy was here, in the deep woods. 

He’d always found Wilbur’s reason to stay inside idiotic, from bears to murderers, what were the chances of anything _really_ happening? 

Bears didn’t live in the area, at least not close to the town, and the crime rate was low as could be, besides the occasional petty robbery. 

Finally, he came upon his location. At the edge of the field, sat a humble beehive. 

Usually, it’d be lively, bees in and out, but after dark, it was so quiet you could almost hear the insects snoring. 

It was constructed in a tree, half in, half out. The drips of honey that came from the hive had hardened beheath it.

Tommy kneeled down, carefully taking the object from underneath his arm. 

It’d been a bitch to hide, especially from the ever-nosy Tubbo. The kid liked to check on the farm and on Tommy constantly, the two things Tommy needed to have hidden for his project. 

He gently rested his item down, before shuffling through his coat pockets. There. Matches. 

With a quick flick, a tiny flame ignited on the end of the match. He gently set a flame inside the object before snuffing the match out. 

A jack o’ lantern now sat at the foot of the beehive. 

A twig snapped behind him. Tommy spun around. 

“Tubbo? What are you doing here?” 

“I-I could ask you the same thing!” 

Tommy shuffled to the side, showing the pumpkin to his new companion. Tubbo snickered, as he pulled a tiny pumpkin out of his jacket pocket. It was carved as well. 


	3. Day 2: Void

Day Two: Void

How many seconds had it been? 

How many minutes? Hours? Days? Months? Years? Decades? Millennium? 

Phil was overreacting. He knew, _knew_ , it couldn’t have been more than an hour. It’d probably only really been a few minutes since he began falling. 

He was falling. 

In the End. 

After a bad hit off of the edge, he’d expected to be killed and respawn back home with no items, the painful usual. But it seems he was wrong. 

The land had fallen out of sight quickly, and the distant sounds of the Dragon’s flapping wings had dulled and dimmed until Phil could hear nothing but silence. 

He’d tried flipping over multiple times, but each time he flipped over he would see the same thing as above him: nothing. 

Dark, black, nothing. 

Well maybe it wasn’t exactly black, more a dark purple. Why was it purple? And why was Phil trying to figure that out while he fell millions and millions of blocks. 

Honestly, he was getting bored. Death had to be imminent at some point, and he just wanted to get it over with and respawn. 

“New here?” a voice suddenly ruptured through the silence, causing Phil to flick his head sideways. 

A pink haired man fell beside him. He bled confidence, eyes calm and mouth in a thin line, 

“W-This is a single player world!” Phil sputtered. 

“Yeah, so was mine. Name’s Techno, you?” 

“Phil.” 

“Hello, Phil. Am I correct in assuming you’re new here?” 

“What do you mean-” 

“New to the void.” 

“The void?” Techno sighed, flipping into an upwards criss-cross pose, revealing his long braided hair as it flew up above him. “Yeah, the void.” 

“I’m sorry, but, I’m confused. I was just fighting the-” 

“-Enderdragon, then you got hit off the edge and expected to die and respawn, and now you’re falling eternally?” 

Phil nodded. Techno hummed, smirking a bit. “Good to know I’m not gonna be alone when it hits.” 

Phil shook his head in confusion, “When _what_ hits?” 

“That.” Techno flipped to be facing down, and pointed beneath the two. Phil copied, quickly spying another man. 

He was much more limp than Techno or himself, obviously passed out, asleep or- 

“He’s not dead, don’t worry. He’s sleeping.” Techno mentioned, watching Phil closely. Was he trying to gauge some sort of reaction? 

Phil looked back down at the limp man. He looked normal except- 

“That’s Wilbur.” Techno interrupted Phil’s thoughts, “Or- was Wilbur, I dunno what you’d call him now.” 

The man-Wilbur- wasn’t really a person anymore it seemed. Elongated limbs, hands clawed and black, ears pointed and black, along with a black mask-like blush that covered his eyes. His mouth, slightly open, revealed fangs. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Phil tried to hide his horror, seriously, _what was going on?_

“What lives in the End, Phil?” 

Enderman. Wilbur was turning into- 

“I don’t know why it's happening, but I guess the End’s gotta get its citizens somehow.” Techno shrugged, turning back upwards, back to Wilbur. 

Phil was trying hard not to freak out. He was trying to keep his breath steady, and to not think about or look at Wilbur. He flipped back up, matching Techno. 

There was a groan from beneath the men, they both flipped back over. 

Wilbur blinked his eyes open; they were glowing a bright magenta-purple. He smiled weakly up at the two. 

“That’s Phil, new here.” Phil waved a tiny hand wearily. Wilbur returned the favour. “How you feelin’ dude?” 

Wilbur moaned for a second, like it took a second to get his mouth the work for him. “Oh-kay, I gu-ess.” 

His words were janky, stunty, like it took all his power to form them, to make his voice work. 

“Voice startin’ to get worse?” Wilbur nodded. “Hey, we’ll come up with a yes and no nodding system when it goes, and we’ll use that ‘till you can’t, alright?” Wilbur nodded again, smiling sheepishly. 

As if the situation wasn’t terrifying enough, the mens’ reactions were definitely terrible to Phil. They were...calm. They’d accepted it. They were fully prepared to turn into something other than human, become monsters, and lose _themselves_. 

Phil felt nauseous. 

Techno scoffed quietly, “Well would you look at that.” 

Techno’s fingers had a purplish-black tint at their tips, and his nails had gotten just so slightly longer. “Looks like we’re gonna be matching soon, Wil.”

Though Wilbur smiled, there was a slight sorrow embedded behind his eyes, Phil noticed. Even though he was calm, and had generally accepted his fate, it didn’t mean he _wanted_ it. 

Phil felt a slight pain in his mouth. He gently swept his hand against his teeth. They were sharp. 

_No. No. No._

“Ph-il,” Wilbur’s voice croaked, “O-ur eyes...mah-tch.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm working on day three so it may come out tomorrow, along with day four, and then i'll be caught up to date:)  
> comments and kudos are always appreciated


	4. Day 3: Glow

Day Three: Glow 

“Fundy! Over here!” Niki calls, waving her arm to beckon him over.

Fundy sprints over, meeting the girl at the water’s edge. She stares intently into the gentle waves. “Do you see that?” 

She points down at the blue. 

Fundy can’t see what she means at first, but notices it quickly. A slight light, a glow, sits deep under the surface. 

“What is that?” The ginger stepps into the water ever so slightly, craning his neck in a futile attempt to see the mystery glow better. 

“No idea, but I wanna find out.” Niki was suddenly feet ahead of Fundy, chugging a potion of water breathing, “There’s another one in the chest, see you down there.” 

Niki dives under the surface. 

Fundy clumsily fumbles through the old worn chest that sits at the shore, he grabs a few bottles and chugs them all as quickly as possible. 

Feeling slightly nauseous, he falls into the water, catching up to Niki, who’s waiting for him. 

“What’d you take? You sure as hell look like you’ve taken more than water breathing.” Niki’s voice is slightly muffled by the water but still audible. Fundy shrugs. 

Rolling her eyes. Niki continues forwards. 

The water becomes colder the deeper they go. All the fish in the area have gone, most of the coral and seaweed was either dead or severely under grown. 

As they neared the glow, it brightened, almost too bright to keep their eyes open without pain. 

Niki gasped. 

“Look!” 

Before the two swam a magnificent creature of shimmering scales. It’s long tendrils wrapped around the stones of the water temple it hid in. 

A ginormous glowing squid. 

It gently swam closer to the pair, swimming circles around them, observing. 

“I think he’s friendly.” Niki laughs as the tip of a tendril tickles her face, “Do you have a name big guy?” 

The squid flashes it’s glowing body a bit. 

“Can we call him Johnny?” Fundy reaches out to pat it, the squid moves closer for him to do so. 

The squid flashes its scales again. 

“Johnny it is.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna be honest, not a big fan of day 3 or 1, but meh. this was inspired by the mob vote lol


	5. Day 4: Nosebleed

Day Four: Nosebleed

The hilt collided with Dream’s face with a horrible crack. 

He flew backwards, hitting the cool ground with enough force to knock him out. He stayed conscious, though. 

He could've (should’ve) been seriously hurt by the hit, but all he sustained was a bruised cheek. 

“Nice hit.” Dream hissed through his teeth, crawling to his feet again. 

Axe grasped firmly in hand, he darted forwards, wooden shield out in front of him to take any hits. 

Technoblade swiftly danced around his body slam attempt, clashing his sword against the hilt of Dream’s axe. As he flew past, Techno’s sword spun in his hand effortlessly, pointing out behind him, stabbing squarely in the back of Dream’s diamond chest plate. The gaping hole rendered it obsolete. 

Winded from the force, and reeling from shock, Dream shuffled out of the chestplate, dropping the rest of his armour along with it, “C’mon! Fight me fair!” 

Techno huffed from under his tusked pig mask, dropping his only piece of armour, an iron helmet.

The warrior wasn’t cocky, even with an almost definitie win in his side, score 5-4, he stayed cool and focused. 

Dream sprinted forwards again, axe and no shield this time. Techno charged equally, before spawning something in his hand quickly, too quick for Dream to see what. 

He glided past, Dream’s axe only grazing his shoulder the tiniest bit. 

The blond felt a tug on his sweater hood, before his feet disconnected from the ground. 

Fishing line wrapped around his body; Dream flew upwards. With a scream, he felt himself flying towards the ground again, and judging by the floor suddenly getting bigger, Techno had harnessed and tossed him to the dirt. 

The diamond axe sliced through the line effortlessly, Dream spun and landed steadily as well. 

Before he could make his next attack, Dream felt a cool wind ship across his face. 

His mask had been sliced perfectly in half, face now revealed to his enemy. 

In a panic, Dream thrust his fist forwards, making contact with Techno’s face. 

The pink haired man stumbled back in shock. 

A thin red line dripped from under his mask. 

Techno slowly lifted his hand to feel it. Smudging the blood, he smirked. 

“Nice hit,” Techno’s crown flew off with the force he leapt forwards at, “GG Dream.” 

His sword was through Dream’s chest, soaking his green sweater to a darker green. 

He sighed, before he poofed into smoke. 

Fireworks broke through the arena. Techno picked up his crown as a newly re-spawned and masked Dream appeared at his side again. 

The two smiled at each other. 

Dream grabbed Techno’s hand, throwing them both up in the air triumphantly, as the roaring crowd cheered. 

_ Technoblade has won the duel! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been trying to make these longer, but sometimes inspiration just doesnt stick around yknow? this was inspired by techno and dream's duel ! !  
> anyhow, comments always appreciated :]


	6. Day 5: Eyes

Sapnap steps cautiously over the upturned roots of a newly fallen tree. 

The cool autumn wind nips at his face, so he pulls his maroon scarf up over his nose.

The basket draped on his elbow holds the day’s pickings, a few measly gourds that will make good candle holders. 

He has to admit, he hates going to the other village for supplies, but this year’s harvest has been dreadful. 

Luckily, the two villages have a good enough relationship to share their year’s winnings. 

He watches the path carefully in front of him, fingers clenched around his dagger. 

He made it when he was four, after first learning the legends of the woods. The bear intrusion of the village also aided in his young paranoia, causing him to grow into an overly attentive fighter. He knew the legends were mostly lies, tales made up to scare kids into listening to their parents and not playing in the woods, but he couldn’t help the lasting effect of fear they left in him.

As Sapnap watches his path, he tries to ignore the creeping feeling of being surveyed. 

It’s a familiar feeling, he almost always feels it, especially when he walks alone in the woods. 

The natural sounds of fall bring him comfort though.

The crackly leaves, painted colours of a sunset, the sleepy birds and busy squirrels who run in his path. 

The woods are alive, as they are every fall. 

Everything should be quiet soon enough though, everyone is getting ready for a long slumber, winter is close around the bend. 

The village will have to slaughter their turkeys soon and start their food stock, well, improve their food stock, as it is already on the route to steady health. 

Sapnap flicks his dagger in hand, suddenly alerted to the sound of many crunching leaves. 

Something large is moving his way, likely a bear, but it’s track sounds irregular. 

Like a cloak is brushing along the first floor. 

And he spots it. 

A large black mass is moving through the woods ahead of him. It seemingly hasn’t noticed him. 

It’s not a bear, or a wolf, it’s some kind of creature he’s never seen. 

His guess of outfit seems to be correct, as it seems it’s wearing a long black cloak. Or is that it’s body? 

The boy is too far away to decide, and he isn’t planning on getting much closer. 

As for the rest of its body, it wears a crown of twisted thorns and twigs across it’s head, which protrudes out into an antler-like tangle above its head. They're black as well, looking as if they could be a part of it. 

They _are_ a part of it.

The being shifts its head, and Sapnap knows that it’s seen him. 

It’s face, _is that it’s face_ , is by far the most harrowing part of it. 

Two large, glowing, white hole-like eyes sit at the top center of its face, surrounded by several, hundreds, of tiny blinking, white human-esque eyes. 

Sapnap gasps, and stumbles backwards, tripping over a rotted root in the ground, basket falling away from him. 

It shifts it’s body in his direction, moving closer. 

It doesn’t seem to walk, almost flowing, hovering over the ground. He can’t see its feet to confirm if they’re touching the ground, but it’s cloak-body is rustling the leaves again. 

As Sapnap sits in the ground, scrambling backwards as quickly as he can, the monster now stands inches before him. 

It’s _massive,_ at _least_ eight feet tall, towering over his five-ten figure; worse as he lays on the ground now. 

Sapnap yells, wielding his dagger up at the thousand eyed creature, “Get back!” 

It tilts its head. 

Something begins sliding through its body-cloak, proven to be a cloak now. It offers a crow-foot hand out to the boy on the ground. 

He shoves himself farther back, holding his knife higher, trying to make the creature know he’s a threat, “Leave me be!” 

It sweeps backwards. 

It stands and stares with its many eyes. Watching. 

It's just...watching. 

Sapnap slowly rises to his feet, blade pointed at the beast the entire time. 

“I’m sorry for scaring you.” 

It spoke. It speaks. _It can talk?_

But...it’s got no mouth...

“You-You can talk?!” He tries not to let his voice shake or stutter.

“Why wouldn’t I be able to?” it’s voice somewhat matches it’s look, deep and bellowing, distorted, but there’s something hidden behind it. When it speaks it sounds like there's a smaller voice echoing it, that of a normal boy.

“What are you?” 

“I-I’m,” the creature pauses, making some kind of choking noise, like it was...crying, “I was-I-” 

A chill whips through his being. 

He recalls the story the village children were told every time the leaves turned orange and yellow: 

_“Legends speak of a beast who lives in these woods._

_Dark and evil, the beast lays a bitter reminder of times of the past and old broken vows._

_Stories tell that the beast was once a man like you or I._

_He was led astray from his village, taunted by a hunger for knowledge of which he could not hold nor understand._

_He was but a boy when he hid in the woodland overnight. His family believed him to be devoured by wolves._

_Now a dead man walking, the boy continued his journey into the dark, without knowing he was deceased to the world._

_He wanted to see. See the woods, see the world, see everything. Soon, he could._

_A night in the deep thickets, he could see. And he couldn’t stop seeing._

_Cursed with eternal sight, the inability to blink nor sleep, he began to change with fear._

_Once a boy, his body fought against him, configuring into a mold to fit his newly enlightened mind._

_A creature, the beast._

_Alone and lost, the boy fled homebound, only to be met by the growling faces of people who once loved him. They could not recognize this demon before them._

_The townspeople ran him out of their village, never to have him return again._

_Treated and shunned as a monster, the boy’s mind, plugged with accursed knowledge no mortal should have learned, quickly grew to match his new body. Still, many claim that his mind is still intact, but many doubt this idea too._

_And thus the boy was a boy no longer, but the beast that dwells in these woods.”_

  
  


Sapnap feels light headed. His body shakes, useless dagger still an arm’s length ahead of him. 

_“You’re the beast of the woods.”_

The creature continues its many-eyed, unblinking gaze. 

“They-they call me a _beast_?” 

Sapnap nods.

The beast’s cloak moves apart, pushed by it’s crow claws, revealing a dark void beneath it.

A snout protrudes out, equally scattered by straining, bloodshot white eyes. The wolf like snout, seemingly stuck in a permanent growl, slowly opens, revealing yet another dark void. 

A boy slowly steps out of the jowls. 

He wears white glasses with cracked black lenses. His hands are scraped and scared, along with his face. His hair is messy and full of leaves. 

Black veins creep up his neck, down his arms and onto his face, like there’s dark magic running through his veins. 

A black shadowy tendril connects to his back and leads back into the wolf snout, a tether keeping him connected to his beastly body. 

“I-I should’ve done this first,” his voice is quiet, shy, _normal_ , “I’m sorry for scaring you.” 

Sapnap lowers his blade, purely from shock. 

“Um, my name is-was, George,” he puts his hand out. Sapnap simply stares, George awkwardly retreats it to his side, “This is a lot-I-I should go-”

“No!” Sapnap lurches forwards, grabbing the boy’s wrist as he turns away, “No, it’s okay, I- I wanna talk...with you.” 

George’s dusty face twists into a shy smile. 

The two sit down on a log. 

“So-they’re calling a beast?” 

“I mean you’re supposed to be evil and corrupted with power and knowledge.” 

“I guess I am corrupted, but I’m not evil.” 

“In your legend, it says you were shunned from the village because you looked like a monster, why didn’t you just do this?” Sapnap gestures George up and down. 

“It took me years to figure out how to do this, and it doesn’t last very long, in fact, this is the longest I’ve held my human form.” 

There’s a silence. A sad one. 

Sapnap is busy staring between George and the husk of a creature he’s attached to, while George stares down at the dirt. 

“My parents-” George sucks in a sharp hiss of air, and slowly turns to look at his counterpart “how are they?”

“I don’t know your parents, what’s your last name?” 

“I don’t remember it.” he stares at the ground again.

“How about year,” Sapnap kicks a rock at his toe, “what year did you-uh- leave?” 

George stares at the ground, fingers clenching around the log they sit on. The silence is long with time. 

“I barely remember. Nineteen...nineteen hundred?” George looks up to the other boy again, smiling with a child-like giddiness, “It was the start of a new decade, everyone was so excited-” 

The boy freezes at Sapnap’s expression. 

He’s frowning. 

“George-” 

“What-what year is it? How long have I been gone for?” 

Sapnap wraps the fragile boy in a tight hug. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

George’s body shakes in Sapnap’s arms, and he can feel the hot wet tears dripping onto the back of his shirt. The weary boy buries his face into Sapnap’s shoulder. 

Suddenly George is ripped away with a shout. 

Sapnap flicks his head up to see him pulled back into the jaw-void. The beast’s cloak closes and it begins moving again. 

It-He-George sinks to the ground, cloak ruffling around him, and throws his crow claws over the two pupil-less eyes on his face. He shudders, hunching his back, a blob of despair on the forest floor.

A muffled crying sound leaks from his body, more boy than monster.

Sapnap kneels by the end of his cloak, resting his hand on it. 

It’s silky, and feels like cool water beneath Sapnap’s fingers. 

George quotes after a few minutes. 

“I-” the deep voice echoed with his true voice is back, “I want to go home.” 

“I’m going to get you home George,” Sapnap unties his head band, and leans over George’s flowing cloak, meeting his claws. He ties the ribbon around the creature’s thin wrist, making a neat bow, “I promise.” 

George lifts his hand to examine the ribbon with his many eyes. He tilts his head, questioning. 

“A welcoming gift, I guess,” Sapnap stands up, George still a heap on the ground staring up at him. Sapnap smiles softly, holding his hand out to the beast, “We should make it back before sundown if we hurry. 

George rests his hand in Sapnap’s.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quite proud of these two, day 5 and 6!! i'm still trying to improve them, make them all entertaining and longer. I hope you liked this, i was heavily inspired by over the garden wall, specifically the beast. 
> 
> anyhow, kudos and comments are appreciated vv much


	7. Day 6: Ink

Day Six: Ink 

The fountain pen clattered to the wooden floor. “Dammit!” 

Wilbur hurriedly fell to his knees, searching in the dim office light for his pen. A prick touched his finger; he found it, and scrambled to his seat. 

He didn’t have much time. 

They’d be here soon. 

Wilbur felt his sweat drip down onto the page, he tried to not it land on the drying ink. 

He returned to scribbling.

_ Dearest Tommy,  _

_ When you read this I will be gone.  _

That sounded like he was dead. He might as well be though…

_ I am still your ally. I am still you brother. I always will be.  _

_ I’ve gathered intel of Schlatt’s plans. I was never supposed to know these plans.  _

_ Schlatt is worse than I could have ever thought him to be. His future  _

He scribbles out “future”. There’s no future, it’s all going to hell as he writes. 

_ His plans are unbeatable.  _

_ Quackity is not a tyrant, neither is George, Tubbo is not a traitor, and Fundy is still our ally.  _

_ Schlatt has been brewing. I’ve no idea what the potions are made of, or how he even figured out how to make them, but they exist in our world now.  _

Wilbur hears distant cackling now. The familiar manic chuckle of the horned dictator. 

_ Schlatt has figured out how to control our friends. Mind control potions, Tommy, I’ve recovered mind control potions, and I’ve ridden of as many as I can. But my efforts mean nothing, he has an infinite supply it seems.  _

He can hear the sound of crackling and snapping fire. They're setting everything on fire. 

_ He controlled Quackity as soon as they made the deal to pool their votes. He got George through Quackity. He splashed Tubbo right before the votes were announced, and got Fundy right after he took the stand. Eret and Niki are safe, it seems, they’ve kept their hatred of the new government quiet enough to stay conscious.  _

_ Dream is MIA, if he gets splashed I don’t know what we’ll do. Techno said he was hiding and is supporting us, but I’m not sure. Everyone else is under his control. _

_ I told Techno to go stay with Dream. He’ll come back for you, once our home, Pogtopia, is destroyed.  _

The wooden door shuddered as loud fists hit against it. Wilbur flinched, running away from his letter station, and down the stairs, into the caverns in the mountains. He scribbled as he ran. 

_ Don’t come after me. I will not be myself, Schlatt has a potion for me, and he’s made it extra strong, I don’t know if it will ever wear. _

_ Yes, these potions wear, but he refreshes their effect everyday. But as I said, I fear mine is permanent. _

_ Stay around the base, but don’t go in it, they will be patrolling the area for you. Techno will be here for you, but make sure it’s him. Ask him something only he would know.  _

_ This is a goodbye Tommy. I’m sorry.  _

_ I wish I could’ve hugged you one last time. Stay strong,  _

I love you. 

I love you- his pen ran out of ink. 

“Fuck!” he screamed, as he heard the wooden door shatter upstairs. He leaned down, pressing the paper against the stone floor, scraping the janky words “I love you” into the paper. It was barely readable, but it was there.

He quickly folded up the letter, sprinted down the stairs, and found the spot. 

A loose stone in the wall; he tore it to the side, and stuffed the letter in the shallow hole. 

Tommy always looked there when Wilbur wasn’t around’ please don’t let this be the one time he didn’t. 

Wilbur shoved the rock back into place, and spun around. 

He’s shoved against the wall by George. 

He fell, struggled to get away, but failed; George tied his hands behind his back with a lead. 

Now sat on the ground, George behind him, he sighed, tears sprang to his eyes. 

Schlatt stood in front of him. 

“Wilbur, we meet again.” 

“Fuck you, Schlatt!” Wilbur spat at the ram man’s feet. 

“Feisty and nosy as always. Quackity?” he reached out his hand, Quackity placed a bottle full of pitch black sludge, “You already know what this does, but you friends don’t, and they never will.” 

A hand reaches over Wilbur’s head, his note in hand, “Let’s have a read, shall we?” 

“No! Schlatt, please, please just leave Tommy-” 

“Shut up, Soot. Let’s see,” he scanned over the letter, “Dream and Techno, huh? Unlikely pair, they’ll be good assets,”

“Schlatt, I’m begging,” tears flowed down the curly haired man’s face. 

“A permanent potion? Now that’s a good idea, I should’ve thought of that,” 

“Schlatt-” Wilbur hiccupped, head leaned down on the cement now.

“Aw, what’s this? ‘I love you’? Wil, Wil, Wil!” 

Wilbur heard a ripping sound. He didn’t look up. 

“Go throw this in the fires, won’t you Tubbo?” light footsteps jogged up the stairs. 

A hand tugged Wilbur’s head up by his hair violently. He met face to face with Schlatt. 

Wilbur could feel his breath, see his fangs. 

“You little shenanigans were fun, I’ve got to admit, but there’s gotta be a loser to every game.” 

Schlatt dropped his head back down, leaving Wilbur to sob into the ground. 

Glass broke. 

Wilbur felt a hot sensation drip onto him; it burned, and then it didn’t. 

“I’m-” Wilbur’s head buzzed, everything was going white, “sorry,”

He felt his head fall back. It felt like he was falling asleep. Everything was white, and he couldn’t hear. 

“Tommy-”

* * *

Tommy sprinted through the woods, following the trail of burning trees. 

“Wilbur! Wilbur where are you?” 

He finally came upon Pogtopia, their little hole in the mountain. 

The door was broken down, Fundy’s skelton horse was gone, and smoke was draining out through the doorway. Tubbo stood in the doorway, holding a sword and two halves of ripped paper. 

“You-” Tommy lurched, but was met by the tip of a diamond sword. Tubbo stared at him blankly. 

“Schlatt will be here any second,” Tubbo held the pieces of paper out to Tommy, “go.” 

“What-” 

“Go!” Tubbo shoved the papers to Tommy and then charged to him with the sword. Tommy spun on his heel and ran. 

As he hid behind a tree, he heard Schlatt’s voice, accompanied by Quackity’s and George’s and...Wilbur? 

The blond peeked out from behind the great oak. Wilbur was laughing at Schlatt’s joke. 

The dictator handed him a piece of TNT. 

Wilbur laughed as he tossed it into the cave. 

An explosion rang out, blasting Tommy forwards. 

He was numb.

Wilbur betrayed him…

He stared down at the papers in his hands, a note it seemed. 

_ Dearest Tommy,  _

The tears in Tommy’s eyes made it so he couldn’t read anymore. Did he want to read any more? Did he  _ need  _ to?

Wilbur, his... _ his brother _ , was a  _ traitor _ . A filthy fucking traitor.

A hand grabbed Tommy’s wrist. 

Before he knew it, he was on the back of a horse.

Techno held the reins and the pair ran through the night. 

The wind whipped the tears from Tommy’s eyes. He read the pieces of note again. 

_ When you read this, I will be gone. I am still your ally _ .  _ I am still your brother.  _

_ I always will be.  _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some pogtopia dream smp based angst for you all ;)


	8. Day 7: Flight

Day Seven: Flight

The world above looked exactly like the world below; blue and white. 

Funny how similar the ocean could look to the sky. 

The illusion broke however, as Phil flapped his wings up over the clouds. 

Breaking through the thick layer above him, the sky was no longer blue. 

It shone a brilliant pink rose, baby blue dripping at it’s layered bottom. 

The wind chipped at Phil’s face; thank god he hadn’t worn his hat today, it would've blown off instantly. 

He couldn’t tell how fast he was going, there was nothing to really gauge it by. 

It didn’t really matter. 

Though it was sunset, he could still make it home before dark. 

Phil was suddenly greeted by the clatter of beating wings. 

A flock of gulls flew beneath him, cawing at each other, cawing at him. 

He swoops down beside them, waving gently. They squeal in return, swooping around him as well, before charging forwards and away. 

He was alone again. 

Surprisingly, he wasn’t lonely. 

His fingers burn ice, cheeks matching with a similar freezing warmth, both bright red to show it. 

He opens his mouth to smile, teeth out to the world. The air up here tastes like mint. 

He swoops in barrel turns, arms out to his sides as he lets the winds speed past him. 

The sun is dipping, more than it was before, and the pink is beginning to fade. 

The stars creep out overhead. 

It’s a blanket, Phil thinks as he observes the sight overhead, a soft cover for him. 

The blanket is scattered with shining pennies and nickels, it seemed. 

Phil looks down, noticing the spike sticking through the clouds. 

It’s his stop. 

He swoops down below the cloud cover, it’s much darker down here. 

The spike, a mountainous rock spire in the ocean, is lit up. 

A trail of lanterns spiral around it, the brightest light a hut just below the cloud cover. 

Phil lands gently. 

He’s greeted by hugs from Tommy and Tubbo. 

Techno and Wilbur wait in the door of the cottage. 

“Welcome back, we missed you.” 

“I missed you guys too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short one again sorry!! tried writing something atmospheric; slowed and reverbed versions of songs help. tomorrow's prompt is fairly promising, but im super excited for day 9 and 10 ;) some fun angst coming your guys' ways 
> 
> -  
> comments and kudos appreciated !!


	9. Day 8: Scream

Day Eight: Scream 

The cold creeps past his ankles as he stands in the doorway. 

The only light illuminating his back garden is that of the fluorescent leakage from the kitchen behind him, and mayhaps the distant drowsy blink of the radio towers. 

A gust of wind sweeps over the field, churning the familiar rustle of tall dry grass. 

Eret stares out into the nothing, only able to see the sky and silhouette of the vast field. 

And of course, his backyard and the chain link fence that bordered it. 

He clutches his shotgun carefully; he’s never actually used it before, it’s more of a symbol than a tool. He wasn’t even sure he had ammunition in the house at all, before he found a few loose bullets in his nightstand drawer. 

His motivation for staring into the night sounds again; the shrill, harrowing scream of a girl. 

He cocks his gun, as the shriek is closer this time. 

Mountain lions don’t usually come down into the valley, especially not down to the farms and fields, but it’s not unheard of. 

But, as similar as the call of a cougar can sound to a terrified girl, this sounded slightly different,  _ felt  _ different. 

Another gust of wind whispers over the field, bringing the familiar result with it, but this time, Eret spies something.

Against the purple iridescent sky, the field was a black sheet of moving paper cutouts, so anything peering out of it became immediately visible. 

Eret spies shoulders. 

Not human shoulders, but those of a canine species, a wolf or wild dog. 

_ Oh god, did this thing maul someone? _

As scared as he is, Eret really,  _ really _ , doesn’t want to have to kill anything. 

Another yowl, this time closer, and definitely coming from where he last saw the creature, before it was hidden by the wheat again. 

_ Jesus, its gotta be fucking dragging it’s victim over to him- _

A tiny snout pokes into the light. 

_ How did it get through his fence? _

Dammit, the hole...he’s been meaning to patch up the upturned bent metal for weeks but never got around to it.

Eret clutches his gun in place. He’s not going to shoot; at least not in this position, it’s pointed to the sky. 

The white dog-like snout twitches. 

There’s no sign of blood around it from what Eret can tell. 

The gun clatters slightly as Eret steps backwards in shock. 

A shallow gasp slips through his lips as the creature reveals its face. 

Geodes. 

Instead of a face, the creature has amethyst geodes covering its head. 

It's got wolf ears and a normal wolf body, but its face…

It pins its ears back, and opens it’s jaw, screaming like a terrified girl. 

It limps forwards, into the light more, revealing a tight fraying rope around it’s back foot. 

“Aw-you’re-you’re hurt aren't you?” Eret puts his gun down gently, crouching down to the wolf’s level. 

It whines, moving forwards again. 

It’s acting like a dog-a pet. 

The white dog wanders cautiously up to Eret, it can sense where he is despite having no eyes. 

“Let me help you, alright?” 

Its tail flicks a bit, wagging ever so slightly. 

It yips, or, screams, a tiny bit. 

Eret stands up, “C’mere, let’s get you fixed up.”

He moves aside, letting the dog trot weakly through the door. 

Seems as if he’s got a new friend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something wholesome, because its about to get Really Angsty.   
> sorry for being behind on prompts, school is kinda kicking my ass and taking my motivation, and i dont wanna burn myself out. hope this is enjoyable!!  
> \--  
> comments and kudos appreciated!!


	10. Day 9: Wood

Day Nine: Wood

“Tommy I think we should go back soon-” 

“Nonsense Tubbo, we’re almost there.” 

The pair of teens waltz through the thick forest. 

Tommy knew this area well, he’d accidentally found it on a pout-walk after a petty argument with Wil.

Tubbo however, was utterly lost, relying wholly on Tommy for an escort home. 

“Where are we even going anyways?” Tubbo whines, checking over his shoulder,  _ just in case _ . 

“Trust me big man,” Tommy hops over a root, leaving Tubbo to stumble over it, “It’s cool as fuck, totally worth the walk.” 

“I’m starting to doubt that.” 

Tubbo looks up at the maple tree cover overhead, peeking through the leaves to see the quickly darkening dusk sky. 

A temporary silence falls over the kids again, before Tommy starts humming a tune. 

He tries to match his tones with the atmospheric shrimps and caws of the birds, who call from somewhere far away. 

The cleared dirt path goes forwards for a while, it’s a well travelled area, but suddenly Tommy is leading Tubbo off of it. 

He stomps through some ferns, and pushes through the bushes, letting them whip back and whack Tubbo in the face. 

Leaves splatter in his face as he tries to keep up with Tommy. 

“Slow down! Tommy!” 

He feels his breath accelerating, whether it's from his running or his quickly building anxiety, he doesn’t know. There’s stressed tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, the constant abuse from leaves isn’t helping them stay clear either. 

He’s running blindly, pushing everything in front of him with waving hands. 

Tubbo stumbles into the clearing, bumping into Tommy. 

The blond nudges him in the side. “Woah! Slow down T-Man! I get it, you’re excited!” 

“Shut up Tommy.” The brunet picks a leaf from his hair. Tommy leads again. 

Tubbo, brushing dirt and seeds off of his shirt, bumps into Tommy again. 

He looks up, annoyed by Tommy’s sudden stopping. 

“Dude, tell me when you’re gonna stop-” 

Tommy throws his hands out in front of them, presenting his findings. 

“I found it a while ago, like I said, Wil was being pissy so I went on a walk, and-boom! Weird mannequin gallery thingy in the woods.” 

Tubbo stood in stunned silence. 

At least ten full sized wooden sculptures stood before them. 

They all varied in presentation, from an old man hunched over to a kid who looked only to be a few years younger than Tommy or Tubbo. 

Some had very obviously been there longer than others, such as a young punk man with a mohawk, who had vines snaking around his legs and moss growing on the sides of his torso.

“Who-Did you do this?” Tubbo wanders forwards, staring closely at the intricacies of each statue. It’s uncanny how detailed they are. 

They’re lined at random it seems, scattered all over this little opening, no particular rhyme nor reason to their placements. 

“Oh, hell no, I could never make something like this,” Tommy leans up against a middle aged woman in a sweater and beanie, “I think I just accidentally found someone’s personal art gallery.” 

Tommy waltzes from statue to statue, tapping and poking at them. Tubbo watches, but he doesn’t dare touch any, or even look at them too long or hard, it feels wrong. 

Tommy doesn’t seem bothered by it, maybe because he’s been here so many times before, Tubbo assumes, but the statues' poses and expressions are horrifying. 

“Hey, this one’s new, wasn’t here last time.” Tommy chimes, examining a man dressed in formal attire. 

Why isn’t Tommy more worried by this place? 

Each statue has its own brand of despair to it. 

The younger boy has his arm outstretched, mouth gaped open in a frozen yell for help, pupils pleading for help. A carving of a Gothically dressed woman has her staring down at her hands in shock. Another, of a slightly overweight man in a t-shirt and jeans, has the man staring behind him in fear. 

“Tommy, I think we should go.” 

“Why? I thought you’d like it here.” 

“I mean,” Tubbo spins in a slow circle, noticing more statues he hadn’t seen before, “This is someone’s stuff.” 

“Yeah, but it’s in a public forest-” 

“They seem personal Tommy!” 

Tommy’s eyes widen, a playful smile creeping across his face, “Are you  _ scared _ , Tubbo?” 

“N-Yes! Yes I am. Let’s just go Tommy, we can come back during the day or something-”

Tommy walks forwards, away from the statues. Tubbo hadn’t even realized he himself had backed away now. He also hadn’t noticed he was hugging himself, slowly curling in on himself.

Tommy throws his arms up in surrender.

“Well, scardey-Tubbo,” he taunts, “We’ll go home.” 

Tubbo rolls his eyes, turning his back, and wandering forwards. 

“Tubbo-” 

He ignores Tommy. 

“Tubbo wait-” 

Ignore. 

“Tubbo-stop-I can’t-” 

“You can’t  _ what _ , Tommy?” Tubbo snaps, spinning on his heel. 

His anger subsides instantly, a gasp escaping him as he covers his mouth.

Tommy is panting, staring desperately at Tubbo. 

His legs-

“Tommy what’s happening?” he rushes over to Tommy. 

“I-I don’t know-” 

His feet were turning brown-

No...

His legs- it was spreading up his body. 

“I can’t move my legs, Tubbo,  _ I can't move! _ ” 

“O-Okay calm down, okay? It’s gonna be okay-”

The realization dawns over Tommy first, but instantly slams into Tubbo like a truck. 

_ They weren’t carvings, they were people. _

_ They were people who had been turned into wood.  _

_ Tommy was turning into wood.  _

“Tubbo, help me, pl-please, Tubbo.” Tommy was rambling now, panting breathlessly. 

“Breathe, breathe Tommy.” Tubbo didn’t want to touch him, what if it spread? 

Tommy’s lower body was stiff now, the infection swiftly creeping up his torso. 

“Tubbo-I’m sorry, I shouldn't've brought you here-I-I-” 

“Hey, it’s okay, please don’t cry-” 

Tommy sniffs, choking up, hiccupping. He coughs, leaves sputtering out of this throat. 

It makes him cry harder. 

Tubbo can’t do anything, he can only watch, hands hovering just over Tommy’s body. 

He tries not to break down crying too. 

The wood reaches the bottom of Tommy’s elbows, cementing his arms; stuck in a semi upwards position, as he stands with his palms out to Tubbo, wanting to reach and grab him, but unable to. 

Tubbo feels nauseous, lightheadedness hitting him too. “I-I’ll go get Phil!” 

“No-” Tommy sobs, “No don’t leave me, please-” 

“I’ll be right back Tommy, I promise.”

“T-Tubbo!” 

The brunet is already running in the direction they came from. He can probably retrace his steps, right? 

_ “Please!” _

He dashes through the thick leaves, using his arm to shield his face. 

If he can get to Phil in time, maybe he’ll know how to help Tommy. 

He got to. 

Tubbo trips over a root, violently tumbling forwards. He rolls out onto the dirt path with a grunt. 

“Tubbo!” 

He looks up from his knees, to see Wilbur standing over him. “I just came to come and get you guys, dinner’s re-Tubbo what’s wrong?” 

In his frantic run, the boy had stopped focusing on trying not to cry, he guessed it showed. 

Tubbo’s lip quivered, as tears ran down his cheeks, “Tommy-” 

Wilbur’s eyes glazed. 

Tubbo stumbles to his feet, swaying as he turns directions, running back into the thick wood. 

Wilbur’s crumbly footsteps echo behind him. 

The first thing he sees when he gets there is Tommy. 

He’s-

He’s a statue now. 

Tubbo wobbles towards him, collapsing into a heap at his feet. 

Wilbur’s words are muffled in Tubbo’s ears; he can hear him talking, yelling questions. 

The boy shakily looks up at his frozen friend. 

Fat wooden tears are permanently frozen on his face, his mouth slightly agape in a pained attempt to speak. 

_ An attempt to call for his friend.  _

“I’m sorry,” Tubbo sobs, “I’m sorry.” 

Wilbur’s arms are wrapped around the teen as he trembles. 

_ “I’m sorry I left you-”  _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> before you ask, yes i have watched otgw and gravity falls ;)   
> \---  
> comments and kudos appreciated :]


	11. Day 10: Computer Virus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!! this is (i guess?) a lil sneak peek of an au/fic i'll be making! i dunno how soon, but i've had this idea for a bit. it fit the prompt so i thought i'd throw a bit of writing out for it ;)  
> feel free to leave theories below, as it may be a little confusing  
> \--  
> kudos and comments appreciated!

Day Ten: Computer Virus

“I’m so fucking sorry-this-this is all my fault-” 

Phil hugged Wilbur closely as he teared up.

Wilbur had never been one to show public sadness, but right now, he couldn’t keep it in. 

He let his weight fall against Phil as his entire body tremored. 

_ Oh god they're all going to die… _

_ That stupid fucking computer virus is going to pick them off one by one, and it’s his fault.  _

“We need to find Tubbo.” Fundy spoke quietly, trying to push the situation forwards without setting Wilbur off even more. 

Wilbur hums, nodding, face still buried in Phil’s shoulder. 

He pulls back gently, wiping his tears and snot with his sleeve. 

He was still shaking, but stood as steadily as possible. 

_ He couldn’t freak out. Not Yet.  _

A blood-curdling screech tears through the house, bouncing and echoing off the walls. It dissolves into screaming wails.

_ Tubbo. _

Tommy was already bolting up the stairs, towards the yell, Wilbur, Niki, Phil, Fundy and Techno on his tail. 

They burst through the doorway of one of the rooms; the room full of screams. 

Tubbo is kneeling over on the floor, back to the door, grunting and moaning, clutching his head in pain.

_ Oh god no...no this can’t be happening… _

_ How can this be happening? _

Tubbo whips his head back, yelping. 

His eyes roll back to stare at the group, head upside down. His mouth, propped open in fear, slowly curls to a toothy grin. He looks like the Chesire cat.

His eyes. 

_ His eyes are glowing- _

They look like old computer screens, light bars shining in the dark. 

“Hello Wil.” 

Wilbur chokes, stumbling backwards a bit.

“What’s wrong Wil? Huh? Does this bother you?” He erupts into a fit of cackles, falling onto his back, before rolling up to sit in a criss-cross. 

Tommy sighs, frustrated and confused by the boy, "Tubbo now isn't the time we've gotta get out of-" 

"I'm talking with Wilbur right now Thomas, do not interrupt me." Tubbo’s voice is cold, slightly angry. 

“ _Tubbo_?” 

He ignores the blond, rising to his feet. “Anyhow, It all comes down to this doesn't it?"

He takes a step backwards. 

The balcony door is open, curtains flapping from the storm outside. A flash of lighting illuminates the boy, arms up at his sides, a malicious grin plastered over his face.

"I mean isn't this along the lines of what you wanted? To tell everyone about me? I mean, you felt the need to tell Phil  _ everything. _ "

"Listen, please, just...leave Tubbo be-" 

"Why should I? Or-hmm-Y'know what, just for you-" Tubbo suddenly shakes violently before his eyes return to normal. Heavily breathing, the group runs over to comfort him. Confused, scared and minor pain, Tubbo cries.

Suddenly Tommy is yelling in pain. He stumbles backwards, now he's on the balcony. 

He falls against the handrail. 

His scared expression turns malicious, eyes lighting up. "It's going to be just me and Phil, Wilbur." 

Wilbur lurches to the balcony just as Tommy swings himself over the balcony rail. 

Wilbur lurches, leaning over, feet barely touching the balcony anymore, but he manages to grab Tommys hand.

The wind and the pelting rain weaken his grip, Tommy’s fingers slipping from his.

Tommy’s crying, his eyes aren't glowing anymore. 

He chokes out, "Wilbur please-oh my god-Wilbur" 

It’s a long fall downwards. Fatal. 

_ This is all Wilbur’s fault.  _

_ If he'd just told them earlier. Especially if it was before the Editor has become obsessed with Phil.  _

_ He's tried before but Wilbur is sure he's going to manage to kill them this time. They're going to die because of him.  _

_ They’re going to be killed by a body-stealing computer virus.  _

"Wilbur I don't want to die!" 

_ Fuck _ . Tommy slips, his grip is nothing. 

"Please Wilbur! Ple-" 

He slips. 


	12. Day 11: Phantasmagorical

-WARNING FOR DERALITY-

Day Eleven: Phantasmagorical

He was alive. 

Yeah, he knew that. 

Nothing around him was, though, as far as he could tell.

Floating in nothingness, and everything at the same time. 

One second he’d been in his bedroom, and when he blinked, he was here. 

Fundy’s feet touched the ground. It was cool, like glass. 

He spun around, the empty everything turning quickly into something comprehensible. 

He stood before a small cottage house. It sat next to a flourishing green deciduous forest. 

As he walked closer, it got smaller. 

And the eyes on it’s roof got bigger. 

One of the eyes slipped off, and splattered onto the ground, shattering into marbles. 

Fundy froze, turning around again. 

He was in a living room. 

It was very beige, tan carpet covering the floor, cream walls. The walls had small black void-like holes scattered across the soft textured walls. 

A squeak sounded from behind him, and Fundy spun on his heel. 

A little clown toy sat there. It squeaked again, sounding like a dog toy.

Fundy kneeled down, picking it up. 

“Hey little guy.” 

Fundy felt water neath his eyes. He lifted his free hand, touching just beneath them.

When he drew his hand back, revealing the black and white liquid dripping from them. 

He dropped the clown toy, turning around. 

Fundy stood in front of a mirror now. 

He was a fox? 

He was a fox, stood on two legs, who’s eyes were a black and white spiral, dripping in a thick viscous form down his front. 

“Fundy!” 

The voice was distorted, a cacophony of high pitches and low tones. 

“Fundy!” 

He spun on his heel. 

Fundy shot awake, sweating. He was in bed.

Eret stood by his side, shaking him.

“Wh-What happened?” Fundy sat up, staring at his friend. 

Eret didn’t respond, he just sat there, his hands still on Fundy’s arm. 

“Eret?” 

The ginger pulled away, Eret stayed in place. He slipped out of bed, creeping around the frozen Eret. 

Fundy walked over to the window, whipping the curtains apart. 

He stared out into nothing and everything. 

A wonderfully horrifying swirl of blues, purples and black. 

He stared at his reflection in the window pane. He was a fox with dripping swirling eyes. 

A clown toy sat on his bed behind him. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 things to say!!  
> 1\. this was super experimental, and super inspired by weirdcore. it doesn't make sense, its not supposed to, and i think there could be a charm there.  
> 2\. late updates are bc of thanksgiving (im canadian) so sorry about that!  
> \--  
> kudos and comments appreciated!!


	13. NOTE PLEASE READ

hey! so it's marz here just dropping in. 

i've been having a hard time writing some of these prompts, so i might skip a few/take breaks. i know i said i'd write all 31, but to be honest, im desperately trying not to burn myself out. 

i want to write quality things im proud of, and some of these pieces im just not proud of. i've got AUs i wanna write or one-shot ideas and some of these just,,,im not vibin with yknow lol 

i hope this doesnt disappoint anyone to much, im sorry if i've made you upset :( 

i promise cool stuff will be coming soon, though, i've got losts planned 

-marz!


	14. Day 12: Space

Day 12: Space

Tommy fumbles with the wires sticking out of the wall. 

The lights around him flicker out. 

_"Fuck."_

The plastic coated electronics slip from his fingers. 

He quickly searches through his pockets, grappling with his phone as he pulls it out. He hurriedly flicks on his phone flashlight; biting his phone as a ways of holding it. 

A soft thump sounds from the hallway. _Oh god._

He's almost arranged the wires back together, he's so _fucking_ close, _c'mon._

A breath heaves down the back of his neck. 

Tommy shivers, trying not to scream, and pulling the wires together hastily. 

"Blue doesn't go with pink." Techno's drawl leaks into Tommy's brain like a parasite. 

Tommy feels cold steel shank into his lower back. He chokes, falling to the ground, flashlight tumbling to the ground. 

He spies red leaking onto the floor beneath him.

Techno, suited in a pink spacesuit, stands over him, smiling. 

**Defeat.**

We wakes in the lobby. 

"C'mon! I only had one task left!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im back i guess ;)


	15. Day 13: Transformation

Fundy clicked the remote.

He shoved a few salt and vinegar chips into his mouth as he gazed at the glowing television screen. He snuggled into the blanket he’d stolen from Eret’s room, and cuddled into the recliner’s crease. 

There wasn’t anything ‘family friendly’ on TV at four am. That didn't matter to him. 

He settled on Friday the Thirteenth; somewhat of a risky choice, if Eret decided to leave his room. Erer apparently (allegedly) couldn’t stand gore. 

Fundy shoveled more chips into his mouth, carefully watching the characters being slaughtered on screen. The bed creaked loudly from Eret's room. Fundy bumped up the tv volume to thirty. The fabricated noises of knives slashing skin filled the room, muting any other sounds from the house. 

He watched the screen, blocking out the rest of the world. 

The ginger’s attention to the screen was suddenly disturbed. Faint groans came from Eret's room.

He glanced to the clock above the door; an hour had passed, and it was now ten thirty. 

The groaning became louder. 

“Eret?” Fundy called, turning the television down, “You okay?” 

His friend didn’t answer. In fact, he made no sound at all. 

Slowly, Fundy rose from his huddle of blankets and crumbs, tip toeing to the doorway. 

“No,” Eret’s voice softly muttered from the room down the hall, “no, no, no…” 

Suddenly, the sound of a window shattering ruptured through the house, from Eret's room. Fundy sprinted down the hallway, stopping outside of Eret’s closed door. The sound of bones cracking, like when Eret had broken his arm, ruptured from inside, followed by the noise of ripping fabric. 

Eret's usually gruff voice came from the room in the form of a shrill, strained scream, piecing through the air. 

Fundy shoved the door open violently. 

A huge, brown wolf stood in the middle of the room. 

Blood was smeared all over its mouth, and shreds of clothing sat by its feet and on its back. Eret’s bed was ripped apart. The wolf, which was almost as tall as the bunk bed itself, stared Fundy down.

Wolves didn’t live around here, so why was one standing in Eret’s room, covered in his blood?

Fundy, without thinking, sprinted out of the room, slipping down the hall on his socks. The wolf barreled after him, knocking portraits and picture frames off the walls and scratching the paint. He ran into the TV room, grabbing a fire poker from the hearth. He’d backed himself into a corner, but at least he had a weapon now. 

The burly monster prowled into the room. It sniffed around sporadically, before locking it’s gaze onto the cowering man. 

The truth of the situation hadn’t quite settled in yet. 

Eret was dead, his house was trashed, and Fundy was about to die. Nothing was getting into the man’s brain though; all he could think of doing was trying to survive. 

The wolf slinked closer, still observing Fundy. It didn’t look particularly aggressive, but observant, which could arguably be worse. If it was calm did that mean it was confident? A faint noise came from its mouth, like a whimper mixed with a growl.

It was only about two feet in front of Fundy now. 

He shut his eyes. The last thing he wanted to see was the wolf’s jaws biting off his face. A crunching sound came from across the room. He opened one eye, looking around. The wolf was standing over the recliner, eating the salt and vinegar chips. 

_Easier prey._

Fundy scrambled forwards on his knees, and grabbed the fire poker. He didn’t want to, but killing the wolf was the only way to ensure safety. It’d left him, but probably only because of the smell of the sour chips. 

He slowly got to his feet, and tip-toed closer to the beast. It scarfed down the chips, barely chewing. 

Shutting his eyes he thrust the fire tool downwards. 

A loud scream-like yip ruptured through the house, and Fundy was hit back by the wolf. He’d stabbed it in the back. 

The wolf swung around, and slashed one of its paws at Fundy. It tore through his shirt, drawing blood on his stomach. He yelped, and jabbed the fire poker back at the wolf.

Hot tears followed down Fundy’s face as he screamed and stabbed the wolf in the back again. 

“You bastard!” Fundy screamed, “You fucking bastard! You killed him!” 

The pole finally stuck through the wolf, exiting out at its stomach. The wolf stumbled back, and fell onto its back in a rather unnatural position. It lay against the couch, as Fundy sat against the wall. The wolf heaved, staring up at the ceiling, wide eyed. 

Fundy huddled his knees to his chest, crying into his hands. 

He ignored the horrible bone-cracking and whimpering the wolf was doing. It was probably trying to rearrange it’s spine or something. 

It didn’t matter. 

As bad as he felt for killing what was probably the only wolf in thousands of miles, he couldn’t help it. It _killed_ Eret . It _ate_ Eret. 

Snot and salty tears dripped through his fingers and onto his knees. He slid his arm across his face, wiping it as clean as he could. 

The wolf had stopped making noise. Now, it was only Fundy's sobs. 

At least, for a moment that was the only sound. 

"Fundy?" 

He snapped his head up, meeting Eret's eyes. "Oh my god- _Oh my god! You're alive!"_

The brunet sat, wrapped up in blankets he'd grabbed from the couch, staring at Fundy. 

Fundy leapt forwards on his knees to hug Eret, only for Eret to scramble backwards.

"W-What did you see?" 

"Wh-Eret?" 

"You-You weren't supposed to see that, any of it." 

Fundy crawled a tiny bit closer. "What are you talking about?" 

One of the blankets Eret wore slipped down, revealing a healing wound on his chest. He quickly snatched it back up, scrambling to his feet. Fundy copied, staring him in the eye, despite Eret's attempt not to look at him. 

"I-" Eret spat out the next words, like a curse word he wasn't supposed to say, "I'm a werewolf." 

Fundy stood, frozen, shocked. 

A cool chill seeped down his spine. _Werewolves aren't real, and Eret sure as hell isn't one._

"You're joking-"

"I'm not-" 

"Werewolves aren't real, dipshit!" Fundy threw his arms in the air; Eret cowered, "And even if they were real, and you were one, why the fuck would you attack me?" 

"I wasn't attacking you! I was trying to get out through the window and fucked up and then you appeared so I tried to tell you 'Hey, it's me' and then...I got distracted by _chips_." Eret smacked his forehead. 

Fundy was silent, now _he_ was the one trying not to meet the other's eyes. 

"You saw the wound on my chest Fundy, you stabbed me." 

Fundy dropped himself on the couch, avoiding the drying wolf blood.

"A werewolf, huh? How's that work?" 

"It's a...long story." Eret sat beside him, resting his hand on Fundy's. 

"I've-We've, got time." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a reskin of an old Losers Club au i was working on lmao  
> if i've somehow left the names "richie" or "eddie" in pls lemme know , i may have skimmed over them by accident  
> \---  
> Kudos and Comments appreciated :]


	16. Day 14: Antlers/Horns

"Tubbo?" 

Tubbo flinches, shuffling more behind the tree he leans against. 

Tommy comes around the trunk, now standing in front of ~~his friend~~ the boy. 

"Tubbo..." he crouches down to meet Tubbo's sitting face level. 

The boy stares at his knees. 

Tommy sits next to him, looking up to the sky. 

"You shouldn't be here." the brunet buries his face in his knees. 

"I don't really care about whatever rule says that." Tommy sighs at the sky, watching the fluffy clouds glide slowly overhead. Tubbo copies him, peeking up at the sky from his little crevice-knee-fort. 

The clouds are a pale pink, reflecting the unseen sunset, a sunset obscured by the thick tree cover. The sky is a dark gray-blue; it's becoming night. 

They haven't watched a sunset (could you really call this 'watching' a sunset?) together in a while. They've both changed far to much in their time apart. It's been shorter than it feels. 

Tubbo feels a light touch on his head; Tommy's sliding his fingers over his horns. Tubbo blinks away tears; _they are not his horns, they are Schlatt's._

_A stupid inheritance ensured to keep him in line. A curse._

_"I'm a monster."_

_"You're not a monster, Tubster."_

_"I'm as bad as Schlatt. I'm a terrible friend."_

Tubbo is suddenly wrapped up in a tight grip. Tommy's...Tommy's hugging him. 

It feels much to foreign, he hasn't felt this in a long, long time. 

Tubbo hugs him back, not as hard, but he's hugging. He buries his face into Tommy's shoulder.

" _You're not a bad person, Tubbo."_

Tubbo doesn't sniff his tears back this time. A great tremor overtook his body, as he racked with sobs. He clutches the back of Tommy's shirt; it smells like campfire and dirt. Tears racing down his cheeks, Tubbo lets a little wail loose, a cry to the wind. He tried to suppress his hiccups and choking, but couldn't help it. 

Tubbo couldn't help but mutter a continuous and incoherent _"I'm sorry..."_ over and over.

He missed Tommy, so. fucking. much. 

" _You don't need to apologize, you didn't do anything wrong."_ Tommy's voice was soft, as he pet the back of Tubbo's head, carding his hand through the brunet mop. 

" _I-I betrayed you..."_

_"You didn't betray me Tubbo; I never felt like you had at least."_

_"I miss you."_

_"I miss you too."_

_"I-I just want things to go back to h-how they were."_

_"I promise it's gonna be okay."_

The two teens sat in the woods, the sun rapidly dipping beneath the horizon, wrapped in each others arms.

Neither of them wanted it to end. 

Neither of them wanted to go back home. 

'Home' didn't exist without each other. 

_"I love you, Tommy."_

_"I love you too, Tubbo."_

_Thank you, I'll say goodbye soon  
Though its the end of the world,  
Don't blame yourself now  
And if its true,  
I will surround you and give life to a world  
That's our own_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listening to goodbye to a world while i wrote this was a very sad experience, cryin rn  
> \--  
> kudos and comments appreciated :]


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